


Write Me

by melblue



Category: Glee
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melblue/pseuds/melblue
Summary: Kurt finds a stash of erotic fiction. Only thing is he has the starring role... and he has no idea who’s writing it. Season 3 Glee, slight au in that Blaine did not transfer to McKinley.





	1. BattleLoveSlave.doc

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mildly dubious consent warning for the first 'story' within the story. 
> 
> Note: I've ignored the mess that RIB made regarding everyone's ages in Season 3, so in this fic Sam is the same age as Finn and Kurt (as I think he originally was in Season 2) and they are all Seniors.

It was a Wednesday afternoon that Kurt found the disk that would drive him insane for the next few days, but, of course, when he found it he didn't actually know that. If he had known how much he would agonize over its contents, he’d probably never have picked it up. Or, well yes, he told himself, he would have picked it up because at first he didn’t know that it was there, in among all the papers spread out on the floor in the hallway… but definitely not if he’d known it was there and definitely not if he’d known its contents. Well… probably not, anyway.

The papers were trash, advertising material and catalogs that had come through the mail. Finn had been dumping them on the hall stand, and Kurt had been refusing to throw them away just because Finn was too lazy to take them to the recycling bin out the back. The pile had grown, Carole had even complained about it, but still it grew, and it was obvious that someone had finally knocked it all over the floor in their haste to leave the house.

So, Kurt had picked it all up, admitted the fact that Finn had actually won this particular battle, and taken it all to the bin. He’d finally noticed the disk just as he’d been about to throw it away. There was a label on it and all it said was ‘FIC BACKUP’ in block letters that he didn’t recognize.

Kurt had figured it might be important, even though there was no name on it, and he’d decided that he should make an effort to find out to whom it belonged. It might have been Finn’s, and now that he was living with them it might be Sam’s as well, but there was also the fact that various members of the Glee club were often at the house and one of them might have left it there.

At any rate, Kurt had told himself, it had been for the sake of trying to find out who owned it, and not sheer curiosity (particularly about that word ‘FIC’- _was that some new band he’d never heard of_?) that had led to Kurt taking the disk upstairs, putting it into his cd player, and pressing play.

Nothing had happened and Kurt had finally realized that ‘FIC’ might refer to an actual document rather than a band so he’d removed the disk from the cd player, put it into his computer and proceeded to open the file that would completely change his life.

In fact, there had been several document files on the disk and all of them with strange names that had made Kurt’s eyes widen. The titles were things like At The Movies PWP, and Motorcycle Boy, but then the first one, called Battle Love Slave, caught his eye and Kurt realized that he’d truly stumbled across the fact that someone he knew seemed to be writing romantic fiction. He had to wonder if it was Carole but he had a feeling that she probably wouldn’t write something called Dirty Talk PWP.

Then he saw the one called Choir Room and he knew that it had to be someone from Glee club, possibly Rachel, because she was, after all, at the house a lot of the time.

His hand hovered over the mouse as temptation hovered in his mind. It was too much, he had to read at least one, but it certainly wouldn’t be the Choir Room one. He had no wish to read some sort of lurid fantasy that Rachel had of doing stuff with Finn in the choir room. He’d never be able to go in there again if he read something like that. But the one called Battle Love Slave was the largest sized file and looked like it would be suitable for some private mocking that Rachel need never know about, so Kurt quickly opened the document before his conscience reared its ugly head and he changed his mind.

 

* * *

 

_By sunset the battle is over and the town has surrendered. Heavy smoke hangs in the air, rising from the few burning buildings within the town walls. He’d told them to keep the burning to a minimum, for this battle is about expansion of the empire, not slaughter and destruction, but still the smoke makes everything look soft and hazy in the lingering twilight._

_The General strides through the narrow streets, his own guardsmen trailing behind. Their armor is blood-splattered, as is his own, but the town fell easily and there has not been too much death on this day of battle. Even so, as he approaches the main square where the Reeve’s house is located, his groin is heavy with the lust that normally comes to him after fighting. He will have to find a way to ease it soon._

_Inside the house, the lamps are lit, casting a warm glow over a room that is surprisingly opulent for the Reeve of a small market town. Rugs on the floor, heavy carved furniture, and the room is lit by proper oil lamps rather than tallow candles. The General casts a questioning glance at his Second, who is seated at one of the tables looking over some parchments._

“ _It seems the Reeve was a minor relative to the King, and had some small favor there,” the Colonel says, with a grim smile. “He has not waited to receive our greeting, I’m afraid. It seems he fled before the battle, taking some coin and valuables as far as we can tell, but leaving his son behind. A man of dishonor it seems.”_

“ _How old is the son?”_

“ _He says he is eighteen,” the Colonel replies, and meets the General’s gaze with a steady look. “He looks that age, at any rate.”_

_The General allows himself a small smile. “Well-favored?”_

“ _Oh yes,” the Colonel says, returning the smile, for he knows his General’s tastes. “Remarkably so.”_

_The heated need that still hangs heavy in the General, twists in his stomach and makes him harden yet further._

“ _Where is he?”_

“ _In the main bedchamber. He kept demanding to see our Commander, and I knew you’d prefer to meet with him in more comfortable surroundings.”_

_The General lets out a soft snort of laughter and rests his hand on his Second’s shoulder for a brief moment._

“ _You know me too well, old friend,” he says quietly, and then begins to remove his gauntlets and breastplate. “Very well, as he so desperately wishes to see me, I shall accede to his request. Continue with the Occupation order and then seek some rest. I will see you in the morning, but wake me if needed.”_

_On one of the tables there are some platters of food, and the General fills a silver plate with some meat, cheese, fruit and bread before he heads for the stairs. On the floor above there is a fairly wide hallway, with a few smaller branching off, but these Northern buildings are all the same and he knows that the main bedchamber will be at the end of the main hallway._

_He nods to the guard at the ornately carved doorway, and passes through, closing the door behind him. This room is lit by candlelight, but of wax rather than tallow, and whilst there is a table and some chairs, and a large decorative cupboard, the main focus of the room is the wide, curtain draped, posted bed. It looks comfortable, and after weeks in a tent, the General thinks he will enjoy using it._

_There is no sign of anyone else in the room, but there is a large screen across one corner. The General spares it a glance, and then approaches the table. On it there is a jug of wine and a few goblets. He pours some wine, tastes it and smiles in approval. It's good and his night is looking to be better than he'd expected. He glances at the screen again, pours wine into another goblet and then takes a seat and begins to eat._

“ _If you wish to see me,” he says, after finishing a ripe plum, and licking his fingers, “then I suggest you come out and do so. There is food and wine here also, if you are hungry.”_

_He senses movement but does not turn his head to watch until the figure in the corner of his eye reaches the full candlelight near the table. The General waits, testing the moment, and when the silence continues he finally turns to look at the boy, and the heat that had settled slowly whilst he attended to other appetites, flares again._

_His Second had not exaggerated, for the boy is beautiful. A lithe body in a simple, but fine, blue linen tunic and brown hose. His skin is pale, his mouth full, pink and tempting, but it’s his eyes that draw the General’s focus. They are a color he’s never seen before, one that he can’t define, seemingly blue, but in the flickering candlelight they sometimes appear green. They are hauntingly beautiful and the boy’s gaze is clear with only a hint of apprehension._

_For a moment they stare at each other, and the General sees a look come into the boy’s eyes that he recognizes. He knows that many see him as attractive - his light blonde hair is unusual here in the north and his life as a soldier has given him an impressive physique - and it seems that this boy does as well. Although there is innocence behind the look that tells the General that the boy is hardly aware of his own thoughts. Still, it means that he will now be able to take what he wants from this boy and some of the tension in his body eases with that knowledge._

“ _What is your name?” The General asks, standing and moving closer._

“ _Kurt,” the boy replies, in a steady, low voice._

“ _And do you know why you are here, Kurt?”_

_The boy, Kurt, stares up at him, and now a hint of defiance comes into his eyes and it makes the General’s erection twitch against his laces._

“ _I’m here because my father abandoned me, and now I’m a prisoner of war,” Kurt says, in a voice tight with resentment._

“ _Oh, you’re rather more than that,” the General responds with a wry smile. He glances pointedly at the bed and watches for the exact moment that understanding dawns in the boy’s eyes._

_The boy takes a quick step back, but the General reaches out and takes his wrist before he can move further away. That wrist is all fine bones and delicacy in the General’s hand, and he wants to hold the other one as well, so he does so, and pulls Kurt closer._

“ _Oh, yes,” he murmurs. “I want you. I’ll have your hands, I’ll have your mouth, and then I’ll fuck you on that bed over there, but I promise you, I’ll make you want it.”_

_Kurt’s face is flushed red and his eyes flash angrily as he tries to pull away from the General’s grip._

“ _And what if I say no?” he asks, his voice choking with fury._

_The General lifts one of the boy’s hands and presses a kiss into his palm._

“ _You won’t,” he says. “We have all night, and you won’t say no. But first, we eat.”_

_He takes his seat at the table again, pulling the boy along with him, and Kurt lets out a soft gasp as he lands in the General’s lap._

 

* * *

 

Kurt almost jumped out of his chair as a door slammed downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps and voices, and he quickly closed the document and shut his laptop. A moment later he felt a little foolish. He was, after all, in his own room with the door closed and no one had even come upstairs yet.

He could feel his face burning as he stared at his laptop with unseeing eyes. He felt like the Kurt in the story, angry, and at the same time strangely turned on but most of all what he felt was stunned disbelief.

Stunned disbelief that someone he _knew_ was writing about _him_ like this, and that whoever that person was, that person thought that he was… beautiful and… he swallowed heavily… desirable.

Still, the setting was… strange. Kurt didn’t know what to think of it, that someone had written a story about him where he was portrayed as, well he wouldn’t necessarily say submissive (thank god) but it was obvious that if he kept reading that he (no, not he, his _character_ , that was the only way he could get to the end of this thought)… that his character was going to succumb to some heavy seduction and of somewhat dubious consent. And just how far would that heavy seduction go?

“Oh dear god _,”_ Kurt whispered to himself, wringing his hands together _,_ “someone has been writing porn about me and I have no idea who it is.”

And holy crap, what if it was Rachel, or one of the girls? That was an incredibly disturbing thought, although equally disturbing was the idea that it might be one of the guys… but whatever the case it had to be someone from Glee.

Then there was the way he’d found the disk. Had the writer been trying to get rid of it or had they dropped it there by accident? Or, even more disturbing, had they dropped it there deliberately with the intention that someone (himself) might find it? And god, what if Finn, or Sam, or holy hell, his _Dad_ , had found it and read it?

“Kurt,” Carole’s voice echoed up the stairs and Kurt jumped again. “Dinner. We got some takeout from your favorite Thai place.”

He took a deep breath.

“On my way,” he called out, and thankfully his voice was steady, even though he had no idea how he was going to face anyone, how he was going to sit and calmly eat dinner, with all of this in the back of his mind.

At least he wasn’t blushing anymore, but he took his time going downstairs trying to settle the nervous fluttering that was still going on in his stomach.

He took his usual place next to Finn and, on autopilot, took a serving of every container that was handed to him. The end result was that he had no idea what ended up on his plate.

“You okay, kiddo?”

It was his dad’s voice, and Kurt looked up and blinked. Everyone was staring at him, with varying degrees of amusement.

“Huh?”

“Just thought I’d ask,” his dad said. “Because you don’t normally eat as much as Finn does.”

Kurt looked blankly at the absolute mountain of food on his plate.

“Oh.”

“Okay, now I’m getting worried,” Carole said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, honey?”

Kurt pulled himself together quickly. Finn and Sam still looked amused but both Carole and his dad were looking at him closely and he really didn’t want to be examined and interrogated by concerned parents.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, as brightly as he could manage. “Just a bit tired and I was thinking about a… um… homework assignment. I’m fine. Ah, Finn, do you want any of this?”

Finn happily relieved him of some of the food on his plate and Kurt concentrated on eating and _not_ thinking about the disk upstairs in his laptop. He managed fairly well but at the end of the meal, he really had no idea what he’d eaten.

He continued _not_ thinking about the disk all through the kitchen clean up, although Finn and Sam took shameless advantage of his distraction by disappearing fairly quickly and leaving him with most of the work. For once Kurt didn’t really mind, deep down he knew he was avoiding going upstairs again for as long as possible, because deep down he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from reading more of what was on that disk.

He sat in the living room for a while with Carole and his Dad, and attempted to watch whatever it was they were watching on television, but his Dad had to tell him to stop fidgeting so often that Kurt began to worry that they’d start to question him again.

So, he went back upstairs to his room, and sprawled on the bed with a magazine.

He lasted for five minutes.

 

* * *

 

_Kurt pulls away immediately and the General lets him go. He has plenty of time to get what he wants, but when Kurt heads for the door he finally speaks._

“ _There is a guard outside,” he says, pleasantly. “And he won’t be inclined to let you pass. Why don’t you come over here and have something to eat?”_

_There is a long moment when Kurt just stands, still and silent, in the middle of the chamber but eventually he turns and hesitantly sits in a chair at the opposite end of the table. He appears to be thinking deeply and his eyes drift over the General, probably without Kurt even aware that he is doing it, but those eyes are full of curiosity and speculation. The General continues his meal and waits._

“ _I’m a relative to the King,” Kurt finally says. “I would be more valuable as a hostage, untouched.”_

“ _I have no need of hostages,” the General replies, taking another sip of the excellent wine. “Soon this land will belong completely to the Emperor. There will be no King.”_

“ _But surely the Emperor will have need of administrators, people who are familiar with the Kingdom? I have heard that he usually keeps some of the existing nobility intact-“_

“ _So, you are not just a beautiful face,” the General interrupts. “But you are still only eighteen and the son of a minor Reeve, which indicates that your blood claim to the King is not a close one. This is a relatively busy market town. I can assure you, I won’t be leaving its administration in the hands of a youth.”_

_Kurt sighs. “You say that I’m not a prisoner and I’m not a hostage, then am I not free?”_

_The General smiles and wipes his hands on a fine, linen napkin. The boy is clever and it adds to his charm. “I said that you are more than a prisoner.”_

“ _A bed slave actually,” Kurt replies in a wry voice. “That is less than a prisoner.”_

“ _I don’t take bed slaves,” the General says. “All who come to my bed are willing.”_

“ _I’m not,” Kurt says quickly._

_Before the boy can move the General stands and moves to his side. He takes one of the hands that Kurt has been twisting together in his lap and raises it to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to the wrist._

“ _You will be,” he says._

“ _You are extremely arrogant,” Kurt snaps, and the General laughs, amused and delighted, and pulls Kurt to his feet._

“ _No, just observant,” he says. “Shall I prove it to you? The first time you looked at me I could tell that you are attracted to males. If that attraction hadn’t been obvious you would not still be here now for I would not have kept you here. I could also tell that you are not yet experienced but as we have talked your curiosity has started to grow. I assure you that I can satisfy that curiosity.”_

“ _I don’t want you to.”_

“ _Then why are you still holding my hand?”_

_Kurt startles and quickly glances down at where his hand rests gently in the General’s. The General is making no effort to hold him there, and it is, in fact, Kurt who has entwined their fingers._

_The blush that rises in Kurt’s cheeks is deep, and the General is charmed by it. He raises their hands again, and takes one of Kurt’s fingers into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and taking note of Kurt’s soft gasp and widened eyes._

_He is pleased that the boy appears to be succumbing quickly, for he is lovely and the General is eager to see him come undone with pleasure._

_Still, the boy resists for a little longer, swiftly pulling his hand away and stepping back as far as he can against the table. The General follows him and when he winds an arm around Kurt’s waist and bends his head to rest his lips gently against his ear, Kurt is tense but does not struggle._

“ _I think you’ve wondered for quite a long time,” the General says, in a low voice against Kurt’s ear. He smiles when he feels the small shiver that goes through Kurt’s body._

“ _Yes, I think you’ve wondered what it’s like,” he continues, “to take pleasure with a man, even as he takes it from you. And now you have the opportunity. You can find out. It is not a sin in the Empire as it has been in your Kingdom, and I’m not a selfish lover; I will give you as much satisfaction as you will give me. For part of my satisfaction is to give it as well.”_

_Kurt is trembling now, and the General gives in to the anticipation and presses a soft kiss to Kurt’s slender throat. He follows it up with a gentle bite to Kurt’s earlobe and when he hears a faint moan, he knows that he has him. He wastes no time, plants a line of kisses along Kurt’s jaw and then swiftly takes his mouth._

_Kurt goes rigid, probably from the shock of it, but the General is patient and gentles the kiss, merely resting his lips against Kurt’s and breathing him in._

_It’s the moment when Kurt might pull away and if he does, the General will let him have the brief respite. But he doesn’t think that Kurt will, so he is not surprised when Kurt’s lips begin to tentatively move against his._

_The General immediately responds and he takes control of the kiss quickly, running his tongue along the seam of Kurt’s soft lips and then plunging in when Kurt opens to him. Kurt’s mouth is obviously inexperienced but also a lush invitation, and the General raises one hand to his face, and runs a thumb along his jaw, encouraging him to open wider, to respond, to completely surrender._

_And Kurt does, with a soft moan against the General’s lips, and a tentative push of his tongue that caresses the General’s own. The tension seems to drain from his body and the General allows his hands to wander, in broad soothing strokes along Kurt’s back, up to his shoulders, and down again until they rest at Kurt’s waist._

_By the time the General ends the kiss and buries his face against the smooth skin of Kurt’s throat, Kurt is breathing heavily and his hands are clutching at the General’s shoulders. The General lifts his head and pulls his own tunic off quickly, watching Kurt’s face as he does. Kurt is flushed, and the eyes that linger over the muscles of the General’s broad chest are darker than they appeared before, so the General, pleased with these signs, steps closer and hoists Kurt onto the table that he has been pressed against._

_Kurt gives a soft hiccup of surprise and his eyes rise to the General’s with a startled look, even as his fingers dig into the firm muscles on the General’s shoulders. The General grins and swiftly takes Kurt’s mouth again, delighted when Kurt immediately responds. He moves forward, slowly sliding Kurt’s legs apart so that he can press between them, and finally he feels Kurt’s hardness firm against his own. A shudder runs through Kurt’s body, and his legs clench for a moment around the General’s hips, but they relax when the General thrusts forward again._

_Kurt pulls away from the kiss and drops his head onto the General’s shoulder._

“ _I shouldn’t be doing this…” he whispers, but when the General wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer, Kurt only sighs, and the underlying need in it is clear._

“ _Hmmm, I can feel that you want to do it,” the General murmurs against the soft skin of Kurt’s throat as he thrusts forward again and relishes the gasp of pleasure he hears as well as the evidence of Kurt’s desire pressing against his own. “So, why should you not?”_

“ _Aren’t we enemies?” Kurt replies. “Am I not a prisoner?”_

_Kurt lifts his head and the General feels the sharp little nip on his earlobe. As his hips thrust forward in response he wonders for an amused moment just who is seducing whom._

“ _Technically you are now a potential citizen of the empire,” the General says. “And that means that if you swear your allegiance you’ll actually be under our protection. My protection.”_

_He places a hand under Kurt’s chin and tilts his face up, grinning down into his eyes._

“ _Of course, how you choose to swear is up to you. Although I obviously have a preference.”_

_A faint blush tinges Kurt’s cheeks but he meets the General’s eyes steadily, and as the General sees the hint of challenge in Kurt’s expression he thinks that he could easily become addicted to this boy._

“ _What happens if I don’t?”_

_The General shrugs. “You won’t have the rights of a citizen. You won’t be able to own property, travel, or work at a craft.” He runs a finger along the line of Kurt’s jaw. “It will be a hard life… but you won’t be a slave.”_

“ _And if I choose to swear right now?” Kurt asks, still blushing._

“ _You’ll be rewarded,” the General replies, grinning, and he quickly drops to his knees._

_Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise and as the General pulls at his hose, he lifts his hips seemingly without thought. The General drops the hose on the floor and runs his hands along Kurt’s thighs enjoying the feel of their lean muscle and fine hairs. By the time he leans forward and takes Kurt’s erection into his mouth, Kurt’s breathing is harsh and loud in the air around them._

_Kurt’s shaft is generous but not too large to cause discomfort and the General wastes no time, taking him deep, then pulling back and using his tongue along its length. Kurt almost seems to struggle for a moment; first he leans forward over the General, gripping his bare shoulders, then he moans and leans back to rest his hands on the table behind him._

_The General reaches forward and takes one of those hands and places it on his head. Kurt’s fingers curl into his hair, hesitant and tentative, but when the General sucks him deep again, suddenly the fingers clench, and Kurt’s hips begin to move under the General’s hands._

_He pulls off Kurt’s cock and mouths at his balls, running his tongue around them, enjoying the sound of the whimpers and moans above him._

“ _Mmmm, yes, I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against Kurt’s inner thigh. He looks up and Kurt’s gaze is heavy-lidded and glazed with lust._

_There is a flask of oil on the table and the General reaches for it, pours some in his hand and then grips Kurt’s cock, sliding his hand along it’s length in a smooth glide. Kurt’s eyes close and his mouth opens and the General sees his tongue moisten his lips. For a moment he’s tempted to stand and kiss Kurt again, but he has another goal in sight, so he pulls Kurt’s hips forward and licks at his balls again as he oils his other hand._

“ _Oh, please…” Kurt whispers, low and breathy, as he leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs wider._

“ _You’ve fingered yourself before?” the General asks. His only reply is a nod and a blush and he gives Kurt a wicked smile. “You had more curiosity and knowledge than I thought, then. But this will be new.”_

_He rubs some oil over Kurt’s entrance and then leans forward and swipes his tongue over the small furled hole. Kurt’s response is immediate. There is a stifled shout of surprise and his hips buck so hard, that the General has to let go of his cock and hold him down, gripping the backs of his thighs and spreading him open._

 

* * *

 

Kurt tried to scroll to the next page but nothing happened. A small growl of frustration escaped him as he noted that he’d reached the end of the document and that the story seemed to have been discontinued.

Then he blushed as he realized just how engrossed he’d gotten in a story about _himself_ being seduced by an unknown man. He could not deny that he was turned on by what he’d read; his tight pants had never felt so constricted as he became aware of just how hard he was in them. He popped the button and eased down the zipper, steadfastly ignoring how good it felt when his hand brushed along his erection.

Somehow, though, he couldn’t bring himself to succumb to touching himself over what he’d read. It was foolish to get so worked up over a story that wasn’t real, he told himself, but deep down, he also acknowledged that he’d never felt so turned on.

His sex life with Blaine had been a sort of fumbling education. It had felt good and Kurt had enjoyed it but not to the extremes that he'd always thought that he would, even though they’d done nearly everything they could think of. Well, except for what the _General_ had been doing at the end of the story… and now wasn’t he just so curious about _that_.

Perhaps that was why they hadn’t managed to last. It had been difficult to find time to be together at all with Blaine still at Dalton and Kurt at McKinley and within that, sex hadn’t really been a priority. When they’d realized that they just didn’t have that level of attraction to each other, they’d also realized that they were better as friends. And so friends they were, meeting up for their weekly coffee date, and planning their dream trip to New York to see whatever Broadway shows they could.

The important thing was though that he could pretty much rule Blaine out as the writer of this extraordinary story. He really didn’t think it would be Finn either – the thought was horrifying.

In fact, he couldn’t imagine it being any of the guys, so that meant it had to be one of the girls. They’d all been to the house; anyone of them could have lost the disk in the hallway.

Surely they wouldn’t have left it there deliberately, he wondered again. But no, that was insane, why would they _want_ him to discover it? And what if someone other than Kurt had discovered it? The very thought of someone from his household reading this made him feel sick… and surely that would have been too big a risk for the writer to take if they’d wanted Kurt to find it? After all, they could have just mailed it to him. No, it had to have been left there by mistake and thankfully it had been Kurt who had found it and not one of the others.

Kurt got ready for bed and then lay in the dark, still wondering. Now that he’d calmed down he felt embarrassed at how caught up he’d been in the story and the character of the General. In some ways he couldn’t imagine acting like the Kurt in the story and he couldn’t imagine responding to such a seduction but, still, it was tantalizing to think about the fantasy of it.

Finally he started to feel sleepy, but just as his eyes were drooping the thought crossed his mind that he was going to have to face everyone in Glee club the next day… without knowing which one of them was the writer.

It was some time before he went to sleep after that.


	2. ChoirRoom.doc

“Are you okay?”

Kurt jumped in his seat, almost knocking over the mug of coffee he’d been slumped over, and looked up at Sam who was watching him with concern in his eyes.

“Um… fine,” Kurt managed to say. He could feel himself flushing with embarrassment already and it was only Sam. The thought of seeing everyone (and knowing that one of them was The Writer) in the choir room at practice in a couple of hours was making him feel rather nauseous. And yeah, it was disturbing too that he’d started assigning the capitalized title of ‘The Writer’ to his anonymous… um… admirer.

“You sure?” Sam asked, pouring out his own cup of coffee. “Cause you look like you’ve been up all night.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kurt said dryly, but deep down he knew Sam was right. He’d seen his own pale face and dark circled eyes that morning in the mirror and promptly given himself up as a lost cause. Still, at least he knew his hair looked good.

Sam snorted softly, his eyes full of amusement. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, grinning when Kurt rolled his eyes. “But seriously, maybe I should drive us in this morning. You look like you’re still half asleep.”

Kurt grimaced and took his keys out of his bag, handing them over to Sam.

“Where’s Finn?” he asked.

“Singing in the shower last I heard,” Sam said. “I banged on the door on my way down. Hopefully he won’t be too much longer.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments and Kurt slowly started to relax. That was something he liked about Sam, the fact that he didn’t feel the need to fill in all the quiet moments with chatter, particularly in the morning when Kurt liked a bit of peace and quiet. Being friends with Rachel and Mercedes, who could both talk non-stop, meant that Kurt appreciated those of his friends who could pause for a breath now and then.

“It’s not Blaine, is it?” Sam suddenly asked, and Kurt jumped again. Really, he was going to have to get a grip, and soon, if he was going to get through the day.

“Huh? Blaine?”

“Well, it’s just that you look a bit, I dunno, anxious or something and I know it’s not that long since you broke up.”

“Oh, um, no,” Kurt faltered because he was pretty sure he’d never found himself in the position of talking about his love life with another boy before. Well, except for Blaine anyway. “No, we’re good. It was tough at first, I guess, but we know that we’re really better off as friends.”

Sam nodded. “Well, if you ever want to talk or anything,” he offered, and Kurt gave him a grateful smile, because that was really quite sweet. Still, there was no way he was going to talk to Sam, or anyone else, about what was _really_ bothering him.

“Okay, let’s go,” Finn announced, breezing through the door and Kurt followed them out to the car with great reluctance.

He followed them into the choir room with even more reluctance, to the point where Finn turned around and asked him what on earth he was doing.

“What?”

“Are you coming in or what?” Finn asked. “Because hovering in the doorway is just going to get you flattened when the girls arrive.”

“Fine, fine, I’m fine,” Kurt muttered, and quickly took a seat on the back riser. Finn gave him an odd look, which he ignored, and Sam grinned up at him before taking a seat next to Finn.

The others gradually trailed in and Kurt went from not wanting to look at them to studying them intensely so fast that he felt a little breathless over it.

But it was all stupidly pointless. Everyone was utterly normal (within reason – it was Glee club after all – Kurt internally snickered) and no one had a large sign on their forehead announcing that they’d taken to writing strangely erotic stories about their fellow students.

Santana and Brittany were holding hands (as usual) and Rachel and Mercedes were already bickering slightly (as usual) as they took seats near him. Puck was sprawled in a chair staring at the ceiling, nothing new about that, whilst Quinn was giving Puck looks that were a mixture of fond annoyance and irritated affection, which wasn’t unusual either. Tina, Artie and Mike were in a deep discussion about something incomprehensible.

None of them took any particular notice of Kurt other than the usual smile of acknowledgment and Santana and Brittany didn’t even bother with that.

And yet, one of them had to be The Writer.

Kurt was so bemused by the whole thing that he drifted out of Glee club and into his first class only to discover, twenty minutes in, that he’d followed Tina and Artie into Junior English.

The teacher didn’t even notice.

By the time he got to the cafeteria for lunch and took his usual seat at the Glee kid’s table, Kurt had decided that the fact that someone was writing about him in a sexual manner was creepy and he was rather creeped out by it.

He was also sick of thinking about it when the truth was he had absolutely no idea who was writing it. He also had no idea what else he was going to find on that disk. He wished that he could push it aside and not look at it but he knew that at the first opportunity he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from reading some more.

“Hellloooo,” a loud voice said in his ear. “Earth to Kurt, are you in there?”

Kurt jumped and gave Mercedes a withering glare but she merely grinned at him and shook her head.

“What is _with_ you today?” she asked, but mercifully she continued immediately, obviously not that interested in his answer. “I was asking what you’re gonna wear to Brit’s party.”

“Party?” Kurt repeated, frowning in confusion.

“Yes, Kurt.” It was Brittany who answered, smiling at him from across the table. “I just told everyone. My parents are away this weekend so I thought it was the perfect time for Lord Tubbington’s Annual Glee Gala Extravaganza Sleepover Event.”

Kurt blinked. “Has he had one before?”

“No, this is the first one. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be annual,” Brittany replied. “This year it’s cat themed, so make sure you wear the appropriate pj’s. We’ll be sleeping in a big cat tent in the living room and there’ll be a giant kitty litter tray in the bathtub.”

There were loud protests from all around the table and in the ensuing argument about litter trays and cat toys, Kurt zoned out again. He stayed that way pretty much for the rest of the day and before he knew it he was back in his room, staring at his closed laptop in some trepidation but with a growing need to find out exactly who The Writer was.

And, as he glanced over the list of documents on the disk, he decided that the file titled ‘Choir Room’ was probably a good place to start.

 

* * *

 

_Kurt groaned and stared at the blonde head moving between his legs with some amazement. He wasn’t entirely sure how they’d got here._

_One moment he’d been hopping down the risers to leave the room, then somehow he’d almost fallen, someone had grabbed his arm, he’d twisted to try and regain his balance and the next thing he knew there he was._

_On the floor with Sam’s face buried in his crotch._

 

* * *

 

Kurt actually started biting his fingernails. Oh this was not good, not good at all. It couldn’t possibly be _Sam_ writing this, surely not? No, it couldn’t be, Kurt thought, remembering that Sam was dyslexic (not to mention _straight_ ) and wasn’t that fond of writing unless he had to. Or typing. Whatever.

So that meant ‘The Writer’ wasn’t just writing about Kurt, he was writing about Kurt with his friends, and now that he really thought about it perhaps the fact that the General in the previous story had kind of matched a physical description of Sam should have been a clue. But were all the stories about Sam?

Kurt opened a couple of the other documents and scanned them quickly without really taking in what was written. Sam’s name appeared in all of them. So that was that.

Kurt flung himself out of his chair and paced the room, his body tight with tension.

This just wasn’t fair! After his initial attraction to Sam, Kurt had fenced him off and put him firmly in the ‘not appropriate to crush on’ category. So how on earth was he going to read all of these stories without stirring all that up again?

The answer was both obvious and completely useless because, yeah, he figured that he shouldn’t read anymore but he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

Besides, the damage was already done. Kurt was pretty sure that he’d be blushing the next time he saw Sam. It would make no difference now whether he continued reading or not, so Kurt settled uneasily in his chair and re-opened the Choir Room document.

 

* * *

 

_For a moment, Kurt considered the option of shoving Sam off his lap and bolting out of the room but he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to shift Sam so easily. He glanced at the door, relieved to find it shut, and it was now so quiet that he was pretty sure the corridor beyond was empty._

“ _Um… sorry,” he heard himself whisper, and really, he had no idea why he was apologizing. After all, it wasn’t his fault they’d ended up in this position, but it seemed that apologizing for awkward situations with boys had become his default setting._

_Sam, finally, finally, looked up and Kurt was knocked speechless by the pure amusement that shone in Sam’s green eyes._

“ _Why?” Sam asked. “I’m not.”_

“ _Huh?” Kurt eventually managed._

“ _I said, I’m not sorry,” Sam said, and yes, that really was a smirk on his face. “I’ve wanted to be in this position for quite some time now.”_

“ _Huh?” Kurt said again._

_Sam laughed and then surged forward and suddenly his lips were pressing against Kurt’s… and that woke Kurt up._

“ _Oh… whoah,” he said, holding Sam off with a hand against his chest. He tried to scoot backwards but there was an overturned chair in his way. “What do you think you’re doing?”_

_Sam gave him a contrite look. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought that we were on the same page here… and I guess I got carried away. I really wanted to kiss you. Still do.”_

_Kurt blinked. “You do?”_

“ _Yup,” Sam assured him, his voice husky. “And I wouldn’t say no to sucking your dick either.”_

_The noise that came out of Kurt’s mouth was_ _unrecognizable_ _as any form of language and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d perhaps hit his head during the fall and he was now unconscious and dreaming. Or hallucinating._

_But when Sam moved forward again and just gently brushed his lips against Kurt’s before backing off again, Kurt knew he was wide awake. His hand glided over Sam’s chest, over his shoulder, to the back of his head, fingers tangling in Sam’s hair as he gently tugged him forward._

_Sam took the hint instantly._

_As a first kiss, it was pretty damned good, Kurt thought. So, okay, he didn’t really know what he was doing for a moment there, but it seemed that Sam did, so the slight awkwardness was over quickly. When Sam’s tongue licked over Kurt’s bottom lip, he opened up and let Sam in and after that it was all just a blur of amazing sensation._

_He wasn’t sure how he ended up lying on his back on the floor with Sam hovering over him but when Sam pressed down against him and he felt that muscular body all along the length of his own, the logistics of it all didn’t matter so much._

_It just felt so good._

_When Kurt let his legs fall open and Sam rocked against him, it felt even better._

_Unfortunately, at that moment, Mr Schue came back into the room._

 

* * *

 

Kurt swore out loud because, yet again, the story was unfinished. Although, considering Mr Schue’s entrance into the room that was perhaps for the best. He hated to think what The Writer might have written for _that_ scenario.

Then he realized that he was expressing his frustration at not being able to continue to read about himself and _Sam_ getting it on in the Choir room. Sam. Who currently lived in the same house as Kurt.

“Oh, this is bad,” Kurt mumbled to himself, burying his face in his hands. “This is very, very bad.”

“What’s bad?”

Kurt jumped in his chair, screamed, slammed his laptop shut and quickly turned to find Finn standing in his doorway with a thoroughly startled expression on his face.

“Dude,” Finn said in a shocked voice.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Kurt snarled.

The stunned expression on Finn’s face turned into one of suspicion.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispered. “Were you actually watching porn?”

A little giggle of approaching hysteria escaped Kurt’s mouth.

“No,” he said, quickly. ‘ _I was reading it. Starring me,’_ he thought, rather resentfully.

“I was writing the world’s worst History essay,” he continued, as Finn stared at him doubtfully.

“Okaaay,” Finn said, still looking dubious and Kurt gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile. It was probably more of a grimace because Finn actually took a step backwards.

“Well, Mom told me to call you for dinner,” Finn said.

The thought of going downstairs and facing everyone, _facing Sam_ , almost made Kurt feel sick.

“Ah, I’m not hungry right now,” he said. “I’ll come down and grab something later.”

Finn nodded. “You’re lucky it’s not Friday night dinner,” he grumbled, as he headed off to the stairs, and Kurt drew a big breath of relief.

He took the disk out of his laptop and stared at it. Really, he told himself, he should probably get rid of it, destroy it completely so that no one else would ever know (other than The Writer, of course) that there existed a whole stash of stories starring him and Sam.

But, deep down, he also knew that he couldn’t do it, and he'd just have to find a way to face Sam without having the knowledge of what he’d read plastered all over his face.


	3. AtTheMoviesPWP.doc

Kurt managed to avoid seeing Sam until the following morning at breakfast. He'd spent the evening holed up in his room, determinedly not reading any more of the disk but, all the same, it had been all he could think about.

When he finally had crept downstairs to the kitchen in search of food, it had been when the whole house was quiet. Luckily, he hadn't got indigestion from eating so late but he knew that he wouldn't be able to make a habit of it and that eventually he'd have to actually be at the table at mealtimes.

So he dutifully turned up for breakfast although his Dad and Carole were already gone. And that was a good thing, because when Sam did finally arrive in the kitchen, he wandered in wearing nothing but low-slung jeans and Kurt almost fell off his chair.

″Are you okay?″ Sam asked, shooting him a concerned look.

″Fine,″ Kurt squeaked, staring at his plate in dismay because had that sound really come out of _him_?

″Sorry,″ Sam said, blushing slightly. ″I left some stuff in the laundry room.″

And honestly, that was no good, Kurt thought, because his reaction had obviously made Sam feel a bit uncomfortable, so he looked up and steadfastly met Sam's eyes, even as he felt his own blush rising in his cheeks.

″Really I'm fine, Sam,″ he said. ″I just didn't sleep all that well and you startled me.″

Sam grinned, but unfortunately he also sat down at the table and poured out a bowl of cereal and Kurt had a lot of trouble not letting his eyes wander all over Sam's sculpted chest.

″Do you have insomnia?″

″Huh?″ Kurt asked absently, and Sam actually patted him on the arm.

″Well, you haven't been sleeping well the last couple of nights,″ he said, once Kurt had looked at him. ″So, I was wondering if you have insomnia or something?″

″No, I'm just an idiot,″ Kurt sighed, and then sat up straighter as he realized that he'd actually said that out loud and Sam was giving him a startled, if also amused, look.

″That's not something I would ever have called you, Kurt,″ Sam replied.

″Oh… um… thanks,″ Kurt said, he hoped smoothly but it was probably more of an embarrassed splutter.

″No insomnia though,″ he added quickly, before Sam could say anything else. ″I've just… had a lot on my mind,″ he ended, lamely.

Sam nodded. ″So, Brit's party,″ he said, after taking a sip of his juice. ″Are you going to go with the cat theme?″

″I guess so,″ Kurt replied, thoughtfully. ″But not overboard with it, that's for sure. I think I've got some cat's ears somewhere and I'll probably just pin on a tail or something. Hopefully that will keep her happy.″

″That sounds cute but then you always are,″ Sam smiled warmly, green eyes sparkling, and now Kurt really couldn't ignore the blush rising to his own face. This was very bad. Somehow the stories had crept into his head and now they were actually making him think that Sam might be flirting with him, and yes, that was a very bad thing. He'd have to make sure he didn't go too far with that.

″Yes, thanks,″ he blurted, standing quickly and only narrowly avoiding spilling the juice jug all over the table. It was only Sam's quick reflexes that stopped the potential disaster.

″Have to get some room from my stuff,″ Kurt added quickly, and basically fled from the room, crashing into Finn on the way.

″I told you, he's acting real weird,″ he heard Finn say to Sam but he didn't hang around to listen to anything more. Instead he sped up to his room, took the disk out of the drawer of his desk and threw it into his wastebasket.

When he went downstairs again, both Sam (now thankfully wearing a green hoodie) and Finn were waiting for him. Kurt silently handed over his car-keys to Finn; he was well aware that he was probably still too distracted to drive them all to school.

He sat silently in the car whilst Finn and Sam had some sort of incomprehensible discussion about football and he followed them quietly to the choir room. At the door, though, he gave up, turned on his heel and went to the library.

He could only describe it as hiding.

It was just before lunch that Mercedes and Rachel finally caught up with him, and he cringed inside when he saw the overly bright smiles on their faces.

″Hello Kurt,″ Rachel breathed at him. ″Finn tells me that you might be going insane. Are you?″

″Girl, we said tact, remember,″ Mercedes practically growled at her, before directing a saccharine smile at Kurt.

″We just wondered if anything might be bothering you, boo,″ she cooed at him. ″No one from Glee has seen you all morning.″

And, okay, Kurt decided, it was obviously time to get a grip on himself before they dragged the whole thing out of him.

″No,″ he said firmly. ″I'm really fine. Very very fine.″

″Oh,″ Mercedes replied in a flat voice. ″So, I gather you think you're fine. Well, where have you been then? Because you weren't in geography class.″

″In the library,″ Kurt said. ″I… uh… fell asleep… and, as you know, Puck has his nap in the nurse's room at that time. So I stayed in the library. And napped. I was tired. Very very tired.″

At that point he realized he was babbling and snapped his mouth shut even as Mercedes gave him a suspicious look.

″So, the general theme then is that you are very very fine and very very tired.″

″Well,″ Kurt said thoughtfully. ″I _was_ very very tired. But I'm not now, because I've had a nap. In the library. Because Puck was already in the nurse's room.″

Mercedes rolled her eyes. ″Okay, this conversation is starting to make my brain shrivel,″ she said, and Kurt nodded in complete agreement with her assessment.

″Kurt, you do know that if something's troubling you that we're here for you, right?″ she continued in a soft voice. ″We don't want what happened last year to happen again. We want to help.″

Kurt swallowed heavily at the concern in her voice and he could see the same concern in Rachel's eyes. He let out a soft sigh.

″I appreciate that,″ he said. ″And I will honestly tell you that there is nothing serious or bad going on. I'm just a bit… distracted, that's all.″

And it was the truth, he thought, as he followed them to the cafeteria. Okay, so someone was writing stories about him and Sam, and yes, he had to feel that it was unethical of whichever of his so-called _friends_ was doing it. But at least it wasn't like he was being threatened or anything so really he should just forget that he'd ever found that disk and just get on with surviving high school. No harm done.

Well, that was what he told himself until he got to their table and found that the only chair left available was the one next to Sam.

And Sam really did look good in green.

Somehow Kurt survived the afternoon and even managed to get through Glee practice without embarrassing himself. Of course, it was only when he was halfway to the Lima Bean to meet Blaine for their weekly coffee date that he remembered that he was supposed to have dropped Finn and Sam off at home first.

He parked at the Lima Bean, sent off an apologetic text to both of them (surely Puck or Rachel would have rescued them?) and then lined up and ordered coffee for both himself and Blaine.

He'd just found a table when Blaine breezed in through the door.

″Hey Kurt,″ Blaine said, giving Kurt a grateful look as he took a sip of his coffee. ″I just got a really strange text from Rachel.″

Kurt's heart sank. ″Oh?″

″Yes,″ Blaine smirked. ″Apparently you're going mad. Or else you have narcolepsy. She wasn't sure. She sent me a bunch of links for either condition and asked me to give her a detailed report on which I thought it might be.″

″Honestly,″ Kurt huffed. ″She's lucky I'm friends with her now or there would be trouble, I can tell you.″

″Well, I told her you'd never shown signs of narcolepsy before,″ Blaine said seriously. ″So, it must be madness.″

″Thank you, Blaine,″ Kurt said dryly. ″You're such a good friend.″

″Yes, I am,″ Blaine agreed. ″So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?″

Kurt gazed at him for a moment as the sudden urge to actually confide in someone almost overwhelmed him. And why not, he thought. After all, it was starting to feel like his head might explode if he didn't get this off his chest soon and perhaps talking to someone about it might actually make it seem less disturbing. Maybe.

″Okay,″ he finally said as Blaine watched him expectantly. ″But this is just between us.″

Blaine nodded and Kurt proceeded to fill him in on the whole story of the disk. Once he'd finished, Blaine whistled.

″Wow,″ he said. ″So, just how… um… graphic are these stories anyway?″

Kurt cleared his throat. ″Well, pretty graphic,″ he said, blushing slightly. ″Except they never seem to actually get to the … um… point.″

″Oh, _that_ must be frustrating,″ Blaine said, smirking.

″Blaine,″ Kurt snapped. ″That's not the issue.″

″But, well, yes,″ he couldn't help adding a moment later.

″So, have you read them all?″ Blaine asked.

″No,″ Kurt said, shaking his head. ″I forcefully deposited the disk into my wastebasket last night.″

″You what?″ Blaine looked stunned. ″Are you _really_ going mad? I can't believe you didn't read them all. And what if someone else finds the disk?″

Kurt blanched a little. Surely no one would find it, he thought, or be curious enough to look at it. Except that, well, _he_ had, hadn't he?

″I really can't believe that you didn't read them all,″ Blaine repeated in disbelief.

″It was getting awkward,″ Kurt whispered, looking around nervously in a way that he had to admit was slightly paranoid. ″ Sam lives in the house, Blaine, and I was starting to… um… think things that I shouldn't have been thinking.″

″So what?″ Blaine said. ″There's no harm in having a little crush on someone in the privacy of your own mind, Kurt. Everyone has an inappropriate crush at some time. Just so long as you leave it in your head and don't try to actually force something to happen, then it's no one's business but your own.″

Kurt couldn't help blushing because his track record in that department wasn't exactly great. Except, he had learned from it, hadn't he?

″I don't know,″ he said doubtfully. ″This morning I actually had a moment where I thought he might be flirting with me.″

Blaine grinned. ″Maybe he was.″

″Oh no,″ Kurt said, shaking his head. ″Don't you start.″

″No, listen,″ Blaine said. ″Remember how you told me about all those rumors last year when you went back to McKinley. Well, Sam didn't exactly seem bothered by it, did he? And he didn't deny it either.″

″No,″ Kurt said. ″But he started to go out with Mercedes not long after that.″

″Are we going to argue about bisexuality again?″ Blaine asked, with a glint in his eye.

″No,″ Kurt said, because now that _someone's_ experiment with bisexuality was no longer actually breaking his heart he could admit that he'd been wrong about that whole thing. ″I know there are bisexuals, Blaine. But I don't think that Sam is one.″

″Well, he hasn't got back together with Mercedes, has he?″

Kurt rolled his eyes. ″She's with Shane,″ he said. ″None of this is any use, Blaine. I'm more curious about who the hell has been writing these stories to be honest.″

″Well, maybe reading them all will help you find out,″ Blaine offered. ″But I've got to say I think you took a risk throwing them out the way you did. Particularly when Finn has a tendency to just barge into your room. And Sam lives with you, remember? What if he finds it and thinks that you wrote them? After all, the disk is in _your_ room.″

Kurt actually gasped. Very loudly.

″Ohmygod,″ he practically screeched. ″I didn't think of that. Gotta go.″

He was out the door in five seconds flat.

For the first time in his life, Kurt broke some speed rules on his way home, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was that damned disk and the frantic pounding of his heart.

He squealed into the driveway and ran for the front door, fumbling his keys until he finally got them into the lock. Once he'd flung open the door, he raced into the hallway and came face to face with Finn, who was staring at him with yet another startled expression.

He was also holding a rather large trash bag.

″What are you doing?″ Kurt yelled.

″Okay, calm down,″ Finn said, eyes wide. ″Mom asked me to empty all the wastebaskets upstairs, that's all.″

″And you're actually doing it?″ Kurt said venomously. ″Of all the times...″

He didn't finish the sentence, instead he reached out and yanked the bag out of Finn's hand and upended it. Finn backed away as a torrent of paper, magazines, tissues and other paraphernalia tumbled onto the floor.

″Dude,″ Finn said nervously. ″I really think you need to see someone. A doctor, or… a… a therapist or something.″

″Shut up, Finn,″ Kurt hissed, as he knelt down and rummaged through the mess. ″And if you tell anyone about this… well, internet history remember. I know that you still haven't figured out how to delete it.″

″Aha,″ he crowed, as he finally spotted the disk. He snatched it up and shoved it into his coat pocket before heading for the stairs.

″Hey,″ Finn protested, looking at the floor. ″What about all this trash?″

″Carole asked you to deal with it, remember?″ Kurt replied, his voice full of the happiness of relief. ″Sorry, Finn. I'll sneak you some extra ice-cream at dinner.″

″Oh, hey, that's the Kurt I love,″ Finn said, dryly, but he started cleaning up the mess and Kurt gained the sanctuary of his room.

He locked the door and then pulled the disk out of his pocket just as his phone beeped with an incoming text. It was from Blaine and it consisted of a lone question mark. Kurt grinned and typed back, 'Got it'.

Then he sat down at his laptop, inserted the disk and opened up a file called 'AtTheMoviesPWP.doc'. He had no idea what PWP meant but he guessed he was about to find out.

 

* * *

 

_Kurt walked into the dim movie theater and looked around. As expected it was almost empty with only a few older people sitting down towards the front, so Kurt headed for the back row and settled himself in a seat with a sigh of contentment._

_He'd been looking forward to this movie and also looking forward to having a break from the Glee club for he knew that none of them would be interested in an obscure foreign film. In fact, he was rather surprised that anyone else in Lima was actually there, and it was an even greater shock, and annoyance, when the seat beside him was suddenly taken._

_He looked up in dismay to meet the amused expression of Sam Evans._

″ _Huh?″ Kurt said dumbly. ″What are you doing here?″_

″ _Well, I dunno,″ Sam replied. ″I kinda thought I might be gonna watch a movie.″_

_Kurt narrowed his eyes. ″Very funny,″ he said. ″You haven't wandered into the wrong theater, have you?″_

″ _Nope,″ Sam said. ″Have some popcorn?″_

_He offered his box to Kurt and Kurt waved his own popcorn in front of Sam's face._

″ _I have some, thank you,″ he replied. ″Are you really going to stay here?″_

_Sam looked slightly hurt. ″Do you want me to go?″_

″ _No, of course not,″ Kurt said quickly, feeling a twinge of guilt. ″I just wouldn't have expected to see you here, that's all.″_

″ _There's a lot you don't know about me, Kurt,″ Sam said, with a strange smile._

_Kurt's brow creased in confusion but before he could say anything the light's dimmed further and the movie began._

_To Kurt's surprise, Sam lasted for about twenty minutes before he started fidgeting restlessly in his seat and Kurt shot him a quelling look, and that was when he discovered that instead of watching the screen, Sam was actually watching Kurt himself._

_Kurt quickly looked back up at the screen and another couple of minutes went by. Then Sam leaned closer, his mouth hovering near Kurt's ear._

″ _You know, there's so few people here that I bet I could bend you over the seat in front of us and fuck you and no one would even notice,″ he murmured in Kurt's ear, and Kurt almost dropped his popcorn on the floor._

_To his dismay he actually froze. Had he heard that right? Had Sam actually said that? Because if it had been some sort of aberration of hearing on Kurt's part then he'd look like a total idiot if he reacted to it._

_So, instead he merely muttered, ″Watch the movie,″ in Sam's direction._

_Another minute went by and then Sam leaned closer again and Kurt steeled himself, well aware that he'd lost all track of what was happening on the screen._

″ _What do you say?″ Sam whispered. ″I've got lube and a condom in my pocket.″_

_And he'd definitely heard right that time and Kurt twisted in his seat to stare at Sam in shocked horror._

″ _What the hell?″ he said loudly, and a couple of people down the front turned around and shushed him._

″ _Oh, you'd have to be quiet though,″ Sam said in a low voice. ″They can hear more than I thought.″_

_Kurt was perturbed, bewildered and confused._

″ _Sam… what…?″ he faltered, unable to truly believe what he was hearing. ″Are you harassing me? I thought we were friends.″_

″ _I'm not harassing you,″ Sam said, and he actually sounded hurt._

″ _Well, then this is a really bad and not at all funny joke,″ Kurt snapped. ″Either watch the movie or go away.″_

_Sam shrugged and focused on the screen and Kurt resettled in his seat. Unfortunately though, he could no longer follow what was happening in the movie at all because he was too busy wondering what the hell had been going through Sam's, admittedly attractive, head._

″ _The thing is though,″ Sam said suddenly, and Kurt jumped in his seat because he'd had no idea that Sam had leaned in closer again. ″I have a feeling you'd enjoy it. I know I would.″_

″ _Shut up,″ Kurt whispered furiously, but the problem was he'd gone and pictured it in his head now and he could feel his pants getting tighter. He shifted restlessly in his seat._

″ _C'mon Kurt,″ Sam practically purred in his ear, and who knew that Sam Evans could sound like that, Kurt thought._

″ _Let me put my dick in your pretty mouth,″ Sam continued, and Kurt's temper and control snapped._

″ _Why don't you let me put my dick in yours?″ he responded heatedly. That should call Sam's bluff, he thought maliciously._

_But when he glanced at Sam he was pretty sure that Sam looked delighted._

″ _I thought you'd never ask,″ Sam murmured, and then suddenly he was dropping to the floor and actually crawling between Kurt's legs._

_Kurt yelped, and dropped his popcorn all over Sam's head._

_A couple of people down the front shushed him again but Kurt was too busy squirming in his seat as Sam's hands landed in his crotch._

″ _Stay still,″ Sam whispered, and Kurt could tell that he was holding back laughter. ″And you're helping to pick all this popcorn out of my shirt later."_

_Kurt mumbled something incoherent because words were rather difficult to think of when your zipper was being drawn down and a hand was sliding into your pants. The astonishing thing was that his erection was actually getting even harder. It seemed that he had a hitherto undiscovered public pervert streak within him._

_Then he couldn't think much of anything because wet, beautiful heat was surrounding his cock and all Kurt could do was stare at the top of Sam's head in amazement. Sam drew back a little and Kurt could see those beautifully full lips actually surrounding his own flesh and that was it, he lost it, spreading his legs in a silent plea for more._

_And Sam happily gave it to him, sliding his mouth along Kurt's hardness, pressing with his tongue, and sucking with enough force that Kurt felt like it wasn't going to be very long at all before he was coming down Sam's lovely throat._

_He could not resist resting a hand in Sam's hair and Sam hummed approvingly around him._

″ _Oh Sam,″ Kurt breathed. ″Oh my god.″_

_Sam simply hummed again and took him in even deeper. It seemed, Kurt thought in a daze, that Sam Evans was some sort of cock-sucking god._

″ _Sam,″ he murmured again. ″Oh fuck, you're a genius. This role-playing game is the best thing you've ever thought of.″_

_When Sam pulled off, Kurt actually whimpered._

″ _I'm glad you like it, babe,″ Sam whispered. ″But don't break character.″_

_Kurt shook his head and then moaned softly as all that lovely warm, wet suction surrounded him again. As Sam's tongue pressed against the head of his cock, Kurt could feel his balls tightening. He was going to come any second._

 

* * *

 

″Goddammit,″ Kurt snapped, as he realized there was no more to the story. Yet again.

And the thing was, how could the writer have possibly known about Kurt's movie theater kink, but the result was that he was now just as hard in his pants as the story Kurt had been.

He couldn't stop himself. It was too much. He pressed his hand against his straining cock and moaned softly at the sensation. It wasn't enough though and Kurt unzipped quickly, licked his hand, and stroked fast and rough, sliding down in his seat as the pressure grew.

He came quickly, and he came hard, with Sam's name on his lips.


	4. LockerRoomPWP.doc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE ON UPDATES: So, yes, this update is rather late. The reason for this is that in the last couple of months I've had to take more of a role in looking after my 95 year old grandmother. Unfortunately, two of my illnesses cause a lot of fatigue so, what little energy I have left over is used up with making some attempt to keep my house reasonably tidy and my garden alive... and by the weekend I usually end up with at least one day in bed, slowly recovering. The situation is not ideal and it means that quite often in a fortnight I only get maybe a couple of hours where I have enough mental energy to work on some writing. So, things are very slow. I'm hoping the next six weeks will be better as one of my Aunts is travelling here to live with my grandmother for awhile, but we'll have to see how things pan out.  
> It's frustrating for me as well, because it always seems to me that whenever I start to get a good run on writing again, something happens to stop it. But it can't be helped.

As Kurt's breathing slowly returned to normal he opened his eyes and stared at his computer screen with something approaching despair.

There was only one clear thought in his head at that moment and he took out his phone and sent a quick text to Blaine.

'I'm screwed.'

Blaine responded with another question mark and Kurt stared at it for a moment. He really had no idea how to put what had just happened into words.

'Never mind,' he finally sent back. 'Just know that my life is now pure hell. I'll see you later.'

″Kurt, dinner,″ Carole called up the stairs and Kurt practically shuddered. It was Friday night and there was no way he could avoid going down to dinner again, not with the way his Dad still placed so much importance on Friday Night Family Dinner. And yes, he was pretty sure his Dad thought of it with capital letters.

Kurt cleaned himself up quickly and even got changed into loose sweatpants. Somehow going down to dinner in his usual tight clothing, to sit beside Sam and try not to think about what he'd just done, didn't seem like a wise idea.

Sam was already there when Kurt entered the dining room and as he looked up and smiled at Kurt, Kurt's stomach swooped. He hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat rising in his face, and then just as Sam started to look confused, Kurt quickly dropped into his seat.

″I'm really fine,″ Kurt mumbled, before Sam could say anything.

″I've always thought you were,″ Sam responded, and Kurt's head shot up as he looked at Sam with narrowed eyes. Had there been something flirtatious in his voice? Or was Kurt going down the path of wishful thinking yet again?

Thankfully at that moment his Dad and Carole came in, carrying platters of food, because Kurt really had no idea what to do or say next.

″Mmmm, lasagna, my favorite,″ Sam said happily, as Finn finally came in and sat down.

Carole glanced at Sam and smiled fondly.

″I know honey,″ she said. ″I thought it was your turn to have what you like. You did such a great job mowing all the grass on the weekend.″

Kurt couldn't help giving Sam a sidelong look and his stomach dropped again when he noticed the faint blush staining Sam's cheeks. And this was going to be even worse than he'd anticipated, he thought dismally. It was as if he was now completely hyper aware of Sam; every move he made, every soft breath or sigh, seemed to resonate in Kurt.

Damn that disk. He wished with all his heart that he'd never found it.

Somehow he got through the meal but unfortunately there was no relief afterwards either, for Sam followed him into the kitchen and started to help him stack the dishwasher.

″You don't have to,″ Kurt said, trying not to sound as panicked at being alone with Sam as he felt.

″I don't mind,″ Sam shrugged, rinsing out a salad bowl. ″And besides, I wanted to ask you for a favor.″

″Oh?″

Kurt winced because that had been high-pitched even for him. Thankfully Sam didn't seem to notice.

″Yeah, I've got an English essay due on Monday,″ Sam said. ″I've done most of it but I was wondering if you could check it over with me sometime this weekend. You know, check that I haven't mucked up any letters or anything.″

″Oh, um...″ Kurt mumbled.

″I know we've got Brittany's thing tomorrow night but maybe on Sunday after we get back? Or we could do it tonight?″

And there was just no way he could sit alone with Sam right now, Kurt thought frantically and before he could stop himself he'd practically yelled 'Not tonight' in Sam's face. He flushed when Sam gave him a startled look.

″Okay,″ Sam drawled and there was something that might have been hurt in his eyes and it made Kurt feel even more guilty than he already did.

″I'm sorry,″ he said softly. ″Of course I'll help you, but I've… got a bit of a headache tonight, so Sunday would be better.″

Sam's slight frown cleared and he smiled brightly and Kurt's heart thumped hard in his chest at the sight of it.

″Cool,″ Sam said.

He wandered out of the room and Kurt closed his eyes.

″Oh, I am _so_ screwed,″ he practically groaned.

″Oh, man, now you're talking to yourself,″ Finn said loudly, and Kurt's eyes flew open as he dropped three dishes on the floor.

″Finn, look what you made me do,″ he said resentfully. ″How is it that a lumbering gigantic idiot like you can sneak up on someone so quietly?″

″Nope,″ Finn said, crossing his arms. ″You can't distract me with insults, little brother. Something is going on with you and you're acting real weird."

″It's none of your business,″ Kurt replied. ″And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop telling people that I'm going mad.″

″They'll notice for themselves eventually anyway, I suppose,″ Finn said with a wide grin and Kurt rolled his eyes at him.

″Whatever,″ he said, heading for the door.

″Hey, what about all this mess on the floor?″ Finn called after him.

″Broom's in the cupboard, big brother.″

″Why am I spending so much time cleaning up after you lately,″ he heard Finn grumble, but Kurt ignored it and smiled to himself as he went upstairs to his room.

Of course, his computer and that damned disk were waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

_Steam surrounds Kurt as he gently lathers his legs and arms, gently massaging away the strain of cheer-leading practice. The warmth and privacy of the shower room has always been a comfort but now he shivers deliciously because he can feel the weight and intensity of eyes, somewhere out there, resting upon him._

_It's not the first time he's felt this heavy gaze, and he can clearly remember the moment when he first realized it was there. It had alarmed him and he'd frozen in place, heart thumping hard, but it hadn't taken him long to sense that it wasn't threatening._

_That it was actually admiring._

_Eventually he'd found himself basking in it, but these days there's a tinge of impatience behind that feeling of being flattered because he's known for awhile now to whom those eyes belong._

_And he wants more than this._

″ _You could come closer, you know,″ he finally says quietly and then waits._

_There's a shuffling movement behind him and for a moment he thinks that he's pushed too far, too soon, and that he'll hear the heavy slam of the locker room door any moment, announcing the departure of his frequent observer._

_But instead the shuffling moves closer and Kurt lets out a little breath of relief and squares his shoulders. He smirks a little because he knows how he must look, skin glistening with water, soap suds running down his back down to his…_

″ _You could touch me, you know,″ he dares to murmur._

_There's a moment of nothing and then it happens. A firm hand presses onto the skin between his shoulder blades, heavy and expectant._

″ _The head cheerleader and the quarterback,″ Kurt says. ″The high school dream.″_

_The hand stiffens for a moment and then relaxes again._

″ _You know who I am,″ Sam Evans says._

″ _Of course,″ Kurt replies. ″You don't think I'd invite just anyone to touch me in the shower, do you?″_

_He hears a short puff of amusement and Kurt finally turns. Sam's hand follows him, sliding over his skin to rest on the middle of his chest. Their eyes meet and there's a hint of embarrassment and hesitance in Sam's. Kurt realizes he will have to take the lead and this he can do._

_He raises his own hand until it rests on Sam's and then he slowly slides their joined hands downwards. Sam's eyes widen but he doesn't draw away, instead his fingertips drag over Kurt's wet skin, pressing and caressing in a way that makes Kurt's stomach twist with anticipation._

″ _This is what you want,″ he whispers, and Sam glances at him, nods, and then surges forward, pressing Kurt against the tiles of the shower cubicle._

_Kurt barely notices the shock of cold tile against his back because Sam Evans is kissing him in a way that he's never been kissed before. Hot, hard, and hungry._

_It's only when Sam pushes up against him that Kurt realizes he is as naked as Kurt is. And yes, it might be weird that Sam has cultivated the habit of taking off his own clothes and anonymously watching Kurt shower but Kurt figures that he's obviously just as weird himself because he can't deny the surge of excitement that goes through him at the idea._

″ _Fuck,″ he murmurs against Sam's mouth as Sam's hands stroke firmly down his back and over his butt cheeks. Fingers stroke over his hole and Kurt shivers in pure pleasure. Sam's lips slide over his throat, a hint of teeth scraping and Kurt lets his head drop back against the tiles._

″ _I suppose I should apologize,″ Sam mumbles against Kurt's throat, and Kurt lets out a low laugh._

″ _Yeah, you owe me,″ he says, looking down at Sam with a raised eyebrow. ″Lucky for you, I plan to collect.″_

″ _Anything you want, Kurt,″ Sam says, and there's an earnest look in his eyes that makes Kurt want to kiss him. ″I mean it.″_

″ _Oh, that's dangerous, you know,″ Kurt says, and as much as he tries, he can't resist smiling. It's probably not the best time to be grinning like an idiot, he thinks, he really should be aiming for something a little more sexy, however the look on Sam's face makes it clear to Kurt that he really doesn't mind._

_It's also not the best time to be abducted by aliens either but when he's almost blinded by the intense light that suddenly surrounds them, and he then finds himself, still clinging to Sam, in a room walled with gray metal, Kurt realizes that that's exactly what is happening._

 

* * *

 

″What the hell?″ Kurt spluttered, frowning at the screen of his laptop.

True, he'd been expecting the usual frustration of a sudden, unfulfilled ending but that had been just… bizarre.

And, aside from the creepiness factor at the beginning, he'd also been rather enjoying his _'character's'_ more seductive and assertive role for a change but now he had the feeling that The Writer had been toying with him all along.

And that also seemed bizarre.

Still, the fact that he was sitting on his bed pouting over it was frankly… disturbing… and Kurt slammed his laptop shut with a disgruntled sigh.

Was he being really paranoid to think that The Writer was somehow baiting him? The capitalization of those two words in his head had somehow given The Writer a nebulous form, a character that was framed and fashioned by Kurt's rising frustration over the unfinished state of the stories.

Kurt grimaced and shoved the laptop away from him. He was being thoroughly ridiculous and, as it was, he had enough problems just dealing with the fact that his partner in the stories was Sam. Not to mention the fact that he could no longer deny that the crush he had once harbored had obviously still simmered within him waiting for the right moment to rise to the surface again, with startling heat.

All The Writer had done was open his eyes to it.

Still, Kurt thought, in the end, The Writer was a fucking idiot as well as just damned impertinent. Because The Writer had forgotten that Sam was straight.

But Kurt was _not_ going to forget that.


	5. DirtyTalkPWP.doc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making the chapters shorter in an effort to get them out quicker. That will probably mean that the chapter count will go up a bit at some stage.

It was the buzzing of his phone that woke Kurt the next morning and when he saw that it was Blaine calling he answered it and yawned out a greeting.

″Just woke up, did you?″ was Blaine's response.

″Hmmm,″ Kurt replied, blinking at the bright morning light streaming through his window. He'd obviously fallen asleep before he'd had a chance to close the drapes and that meant… Kurt raised a hand to his face. Yep, he hadn't performed his nightly skin routine either.

″I think Finn might be right,″ he murmured.

″What?″

″I might be going mad,″ Kurt said. ″I didn't moisturize.″

There was silence on the other end for a moment and Kurt was pretty sure it was an amused silence.

″Those stories must be really getting to you then,″ Blaine said.

″Yes,″ Kurt sighed. Really, he was way too depressed to even think about getting angry about them anymore. ″And yet, I can't seem to stop reading them.″

″Well it can't last forever,″ Blaine said. ″You'll run out. How many are left?″

Good point, Kurt realized. His laptop was still sitting on the end of the bed and he dragged it closer, flipping open the lid.

″Hmm, I've read Battle Love Slave and the Locker and Choir Room ones. Also Love at the Movies. There's still Dirty Talk PWP and Motorcycle Boy. So, two.″

″Those are the titles?″

Blaine sounded stunned and Kurt couldn't help smiling.

″Yeah, original aren't they?″ he replied. ″You don't know what PWP means do you? One of the others had that as well.″

He heard Blaine hum thoughtfully. ″No,″ he eventually said, ″but considering the content… Porn with Penis? Oh, I know, Penis with Penis.″

Kurt blinked.

″Somehow I don't think so,″ he said doubtfully.

″Penetration with Penis!″

Kurt snorted. ″None of them have got that far. And stop saying penis.″

″Purely Wonderful Penis.″

″No. Really, Blaine. Stop.″

″Pumpin' Whitehot Penis.″

″Okay, I'm hanging up now.″

″No, wait,″ Blaine called, his voice full of laughter and Kurt found himself grinning in response. ″I'll stop, I promise.″

″You really are an idiot,″ Kurt said, but he was laughing and somehow Blaine's fooling around had made him feel more lighthearted about the situation.

″I know,″ Blaine said. ″So, tell me which one are you going to read next?″

Kurt shrugged and then remembered that Blaine couldn't see him.

″What do you suggest?″

″Well, you always had kinda of a thing for dirty talk, you know.″

Kurt's jaw dropped open in disbelief and pure shock.

″I beg your pardon? What on earth are you talking about, Blaine?″

″Oh, come on,″ Blaine said, surprise coloring his voice. ″Surely you knew that. You always used to get hot and bothered when I said _certain things_ to you while we-″

″ _Hot and bothered?_ ″ Kurt spluttered before Blaine could continue because, as fond of Blaine as he was, he really didn't want to rehash their rather tame sex life – not when the one with Sam that he was reading about was just so much more exciting (and wasn't _that_ weird, he thought, and possibly also sad with a touch of pathetic thrown in).

″Kurt, are you there?″

″Yeah,″ Kurt mumbled. ″And I still think you're an idiot.″

″Whatever,″ Blaine said. ″Just read that one and I bet you coffee at the Lima Bean on Monday that it turns out that I'm right.″

″You're on,″ Kurt replied promptly. ″And now I've got to go. I'm way behind with my skincare routine and I'm supposed to be at Brittany's this afternoon for this weird cat sleepover thing. So I need to find my ears and a tail.″

″Oh,″ Blaine said, after a moment of silence. ″Um. Right. I won't ask for an explanation of all that I think. I'll see you Monday. Bring your wallet.″

Kurt rolled his eyes and didn't bother to reply, particularly as Blaine had already hung up anyway.

″Okay, Mr. Arrogant and Over-confident,″ he muttered, pulling his laptop closer again. ″Let's just prove you wrong.″

He looked up to check the door and was glad to see that it was locked, and then opened the DirtyTalkPWP.doc file.

 

* * *

 

″ _I love your cock.″_

_The words were whispered with a heated rush of air over Kurt's straining, moist erection, and when Sam's mouth returned to its lavish attentions Kurt could honestly believe that the words were true._

_Sam did seem to love his cock._

 

* * *

 

″Oh wow,″ Kurt mumbled. ″Straight into it. Well, who needs a plot after all, I suppose.″

 

* * *

 

 

_A kiss was pressed to Kurt's inner thigh and when he whined his disappointment over the change of location of Sam's mouth, he heard as well as felt the small puff of amusement that his boyfriend made._

″ _I love your cock when it's in me,″ Sam murmured against his leg, and Kurt shivered at the thought of being surrounded by Sam's tight heat._

″ _And I love it when it's looking all pretty and hard against your stomach when I fuck you.″_

_The words were mixed with kisses against his hip and Kurt wasn't surprised when he felt a slick finger pressing against his entrance. He spread his legs wider to welcome it and another approving kiss was placed in the middle of his chest._

_A moment later Sam's mouth was against his own in a hot, hungry kiss that Kurt moaned into when Sam's finger finally entered him._

″ _I love the sounds you make, Kurt,″ Sam said, voice low and husky. His tongue traced a heated trail around the shell of Kurt's ear._

″ _You're gonna make so many good noises for me tonight, babe. You're gonna let me hear them all, aren't you?″_

_No longer capable of speech, Kurt nodded._

″ _You're so good, Kurt,″ Sam said, as another finger breached Kurt. ″Can't wait to be inside you. Feel you hot and clenching around me.″_

_One of his fingers crooked inside Kurt, and Kurt arched against the bed, gasping in pleasure._

″ _That's it babe,″ Sam continued, and his low voice seemed to purr inside Kurt's head. ″You know what I want to hear now.″_

_As always when it came to this moment a little part of Kurt balked, not at the idea of showing this part of himself to Sam, but at the fact that Kurt himself wanted it and that Sam knew it. Although he was certainly sure that Sam enjoyed the whole thing as much as Kurt did._

_Still…_

″ _Do… I...″ Kurt gasped, and then tried again. ″Do I have to say it in Na'vi?″_

_Good, he'd managed to sound just a little snarky._

_Sam looked up and crooked his fingers again, smiling as Kurt's hips once more arched off the bed. A moment later he was up, hovering over Kurt, pushing his thighs apart and settling between them._

_Then the fingers were gone and Kurt felt the tip of Sam's cock pressing against his entrance before sliding away and he couldn't repress his groan of disappointment._

″ _I can make you wait,″ Sam said, looking down at him, all traces of his smile gone. Instead his gaze was heavy-lidded and intent, in the way that always made Kurt's stomach swoop and tighten with excitement._

_Kurt let his hands drift over Sam's chest, sliding up to his shoulders where he pulled gently until Sam lowered himself and their lips met. A soft brush of lips that mirrored the soft brush of Sam's stomach against Kurt's aching cock. The kiss slowly deepened as Kurt locked his legs around Sam's hips._

″ _Please...″ he whispered against Sam's mouth. ″… please… take me, Sam… fuck me… please...″_

″ _Is this what you want?″ Sam murmured, and Kurt felt Sam's cock press against him again. ″You gonna beg me for it, Kurt?″_

_And once again, Kurt felt that last barrier of restraint drop away inside him, just as he always felt it when they played this game._

″ _Yes,″ he breathed out on a long sigh. ″Yes… oh Sam, I'm begging you… please… give it to me.″_

″ _You sure?″ Sam asked, prolonging the moment and a little shudder of need went through Kurt's body._

″ _Please...″ and, oh god, his voice sounded like a strangled mess. ″Sam, please...″_

″ _You got it, babe, always.″_

 

* * *

 

Kurt wasn't surprised when the story ended abruptly and he didn't care either. He'd had his hand stuck down his pajama pants since about the third paragraph and now he could lie back and really enjoy himself. He reached into his bedside drawer, snagged the bottle of lube inside, yanking down his pants at the same time.

A moment later he had two fingers inside himself, knuckle deep, and his other hand clenched around his erection. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sound of Sam's voice inside his head.

″Yes,″ he whispered. ″Sam… please… there, I need you.″

″ _I've got you, Kurt,″_ was the low, husky response in his ear, ″ _you're so hot, so tight, so good, so perfect to fuck… so perfect for me.″_

″Oh my god,″ Kurt gasped, lost it and came hard.

He lay on the bed, panting, with his eyes tightly closed. That had been… intense, he thought. And quick.

″Well,″ he finally whispered to himself. ″That little asshole was right.″

Still, it hadn't been just about what Sam had been saying to him – it had also been about what he'd been saying to Sam.

″ _That_ was a kink I didn't know I had,″ Kurt thought as he cleaned himself up.

He steadfastly ignored the fact that he'd gotten off to thoughts of Sam yet again and picked up his phone.

″See you Monday. I owe you coffee.″

He was just heading for the bathroom when his phone pinged with an incoming text and Kurt picked it up again.

″I want cake too!″

Kurt rolled his eyes and tossed the phone onto his bed.

 


	6. Lord Tubbington's Annual Glee Gala Extravaganza Sleepover Event

Even before he was fully awake Kurt knew that he had the headache to end all headaches. He couldn't even summon up the will to groan as he slowly opened one bleary eye.

Then he froze. And gasped in shock, because right there in front of him, in all it's glory, was Sam Evan's naked chest.

A moment later Kurt realized that Sam's arm was actually draped over Kurt's waist… a heavy, warm weight that was oddly comforting, even as Kurt's heart went into panicked overdrive.

To his shame, Kurt let out a soft whimper. Then his eyes actually took in the state of Sam's chest and he frowned with confusion.

Around each of Sam's nipples there was a crude cartoon picture of a cat's face drawn in black marker, flamboyant whiskers streaking across Sam's skin.

A flash of memory shot through Kurt's mind, of himself, actually sitting on Sam's lap, drunk and giggling stupidly as he drew those pictures, whilst Sam squirmed and laughed and made very little effort to stop him.

″Oh my god,″ Kurt whispered. ″What have I done?″

Another picture played in his head, himself pulling Sam's shirt open and off, and this time he groaned with despair. If he'd reached the point of ripping clothes off he must have been really bad… and just how far had he gone with it? Panic ripped through him again followed by utter relief as he realized that he was actually still wearing his cat costume and Sam was still in his jeans.

And honestly Brittany's party had been a fucking disaster, Kurt thought resentfully even as his eyes lingered on Sam's naked chest. He hadn't meant to drink so much, but he'd already been in a state of nervous tension when they'd got there, and Santana had kept pressing drinks into his hand as if she'd been on some sort of single-minded mission to get him completely smashed.

She had succeeded all too well judging by the hazy images that were starting to run through his mind. It had started when Sam, a little tipsy himself, had told Kurt that his cat's ears were cute and then started playing with Kurt's tail. Without thinking Kurt had swatted at him playfully and the whole thing had turned into a game involving some of the cat toys Brittany had scattered around the room and a lot of pouncing.

Thankfully he hadn't been the only one to make a complete fool of himself because everyone else had gotten involved in the game as well. Kurt was pretty sure that Brittany's house would need a massive clean-up and a few repairs before any of them could actually leave.

He rolled gently onto his back, trying to ignore the way Sam's arm dragged across his stomach, and blinked up at the blanket above him. As yes, he remembered, they'd all ended up making a giant cat tent with blankets in Brittany's family room and judging by the snuffling and soft snores around him, they'd all ended up using it.

Kurt was actually starting to blush at the image of his hands tearing open Sam's shirt(and he was fairly certain some of the buttons had flown off) when he heard Sam's breathing change. He tensed and oh why oh why he hadn't gotten himself out of this stupid blanket tent before Sam had a chance to wake up he had no idea. He was obviously an even bigger idiot than he'd thought.

Sam stirred beside him and then stilled and Kurt contemplated pretending that he was still asleep himself.

″Uh, hi,″ Sam said softly.

Kurt swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the pounding in his head… and the fluttering in his stomach.

″Okay, I'm sorry,″ Kurt said quickly, because he figured it was probably best to get this over with as soon as possible. ″I was very drunk and very stupid to do all that stuff to you and I'm really sorry, Sam. I was… out of control.″

The arm laying over his body shifted as Sam propped himself up on his elbow to look down at him, and Kurt forced himself to look at Sam's face.

″Oh, hey,″ Sam said, and he was actually smiling. ″Don't be like that. Okay, it will take an effort to get all this ink off my chest but it was kinda fun, Kurt. And anyway, I started it.″

″Yes, but you didn't try to rip my clothes off,″ Kurt muttered and then widened his eyes in horror at what had just come out of his mouth.

But Sam just laughed. ″Well, your clothes are a little more complicated than mine.″

His eyes roved over Kurt's body and Kurt felt himself starting to blush again even as he told himself firmly that Sam was just examining his costume. And Sam had a point, because Kurt had obviously not attempted to change into the pajamas he'd brought along and sleeping in skin tight black pants with a tail pinned to them, knee-high boots and a snug leopard print top with complex buckle fastenings, hadn't exactly been comfortable.

″Well, I'm still sorry,″ Kurt mumbled, even as he tried to ignore the fact that Sam had just sort of implied something about tearing off Kurt's clothing… and really, he was having to try way too hard to ignore stuff this morning and he hadn't even had coffee yet.

He shifted nervously and Sam finally drew back the arm that had still been resting over Kurt's waist. Kurt glanced at him and found that he couldn't really decipher the look on Sam's face. It certainly wasn't anger or annoyance but it wasn't exactly happy either and Kurt's heart sank. He really had gone too far, he guessed, and he was still trying to think of something to say to Sam that would gloss over the whole thing, when Brittany breezed into the room.

″Breakfast time, everybody,″ she called out happily.

There was a loud chorus of groans followed by the tent collapsing.

By the time they'd all untangled themselves from the blankets, Brittany had placed cereal packets and milk on the coffee table along with a pile of brightly colored plastic bowls.

″Oh wait, is that...″ Mercedes frowned as she picked up one of the bowls and Kurt noticed that it had a pattern of paws printed on the side.

″Uh uh, no way, Brit,″ Mercedes continued flatly. ″We are not eating out of cat bowls. Nope, no, not happening.″

Kurt chose not to get involved in the argument that followed. Instead he slipped into the kitchen and practically inhaled a large glass of water. Then he dug around in his bag until he found the box of Tylenol he'd stashed in it because sometimes he was a genius, and swallowed a couple of the pills.

″Do you have any more of those?″

Kurt jumped and almost dropped his glass of water on the floor. When he turned around Sam was smiling at him. He'd found his shirt somewhere and put it on, but it was hanging open at the front and Kurt could still see his artwork on Sam's chest.

″Uh, sure,″ Kurt said, handing over the packet. ″After all, I owe you.″

Sam gave him a questioning look.

″Um, I think I ruined your shirt actually,″ Kurt told him. ″If we find the buttons I can sew them back on for you.″

″Doesn't matter,″ Sam said, shrugging. ″It was pretty old anyway. Besides I never really liked the tiger face printed on the back, though it did come in useful for Brit's party.″

Well that was a bit of a relief, but still… ″Okay,″ Kurt said. ″But I really am sorry about-″

″Kurt, I don't get why you keep apologizing,″ Sam interrupted, and there was something tight in his voice that Kurt didn't understand. ″You haven't done anything bad. We just had fun at a party. Well. _I_ had fun and I hope _you_ did.″

For a moment Kurt was rather taken aback and then he nodded slowly, because Sam was right. It had just been a bit of fun at a party, perhaps a little flirtatious but it wasn't like Kurt had tried to kiss Sam or anything, and Sam certainly hadn't objected to any of it. So, there really was no reason for Kurt to be feeling so guilty particularly when, after all the crap last year, he'd decided that he'd never feel guilty over who he was again.

Except, there was a bit (okay, not a bit, a lot) of a reason that he felt awkward now, and it was sitting in his laptop at home. All of those stories had _changed_ him and the way he felt about Sam (or brought back feelings he'd once had about Sam)… and Sam had no idea that he had a starring role both in somebody's writing adventures and the fantasies that were now lodged in Kurt's head.

Even now he could feel himself starting to blush as he and Sam just stood and stared at each other because he also knew that first chance he got he was going to read another story. He wouldn't be able to stop himself and that _was_ a reason to be feeling so guilty.

Kurt let out a little sigh of frustration as some sort of tension slowly crept into the room probably because, yes, they were still just sort of standing there, looking at each other. Sam's eyes were questioning and Kurt really couldn't think of anything to say, other than to apologize again and he was fairly certain that Sam wouldn't appreciate that.

″Okay, what are you two doing exactly?″

This time Kurt did drop his glass on the floor. Thankfully it didn't actually break, just bounced a bit as the remaining water inside it sprayed across the floor.

Kurt turned, already aiming a glare at Finn, who was standing behind him with a look on his face as if he thought that Kurt was the most demented person on earth. It was a look that was becoming all too familiar on Finn and Kurt had had just about enough of it.

″Stop creeping up on me all the time, Finn,″ Kurt warned. ″Or I'll tell Rachel that it was you who ruined her reindeer sweater last Christmas.″

Finn rolled his eyes but there was a hint of alarm on his face and it made Kurt feel a lot better.

″Keep it down, dude,″ Finn replied, raising his hands in a placating gesture. ″I was only wondering why you were both just standing there.″

Kurt threw the Tylenol packet at Finn's head and it bounced off his forehead and landed on the kitchen counter. Behind him he heard a soft snort of amusement from Sam.

″We were getting some pain relief,″ he said. ″Help yourself if you need it.″

″Oh, man, you are a lifesaver,″ Finn said, gratefully.

″Yes, well, just remember that next time you're thinking of telling someone that I'm crazy.″

Finn just grinned at him. ″Hey, you know I'll still love you no matter how nuts you get, little brother,″ he teased. ″Right?″

″That's comforting to know, big brother,″ Kurt replied dryly, but to be honest he couldn't help giving Finn a fond smile because he would be forever glad that they had managed to work through so many of the issues that they'd had with each other and reach the sort of place where they could tease each other so comfortably.

The argument that had started in the living room reached the kitchen at this point and once it had been resolved (they did _not_ eat out of cat bowls) and Brittany's house had been returned to something resembling normal they were finally free to leave.

It was with relief that Kurt followed Finn and Sam through the front door of their house and headed up the stairs to his room. The headache he'd woken with was still hovering around and he badly wanted to have a shower, wash his hair and get into some comfortable clothes. He could tell the other two were just as eager for the same thing, especially when Finn practically raced for his own bedroom door... but Sam hovered for a moment near Kurt's room and Kurt gave him a questioning look.

″So,″ Sam said, with a smile. ″Should I come to your room later or should we just do it in my room?″

Kurt froze, eyes widening in shock, and already he could feel a blush of heat washing over his face.

″What?″ he practically gasped.

″Uh...″ Sam frowned slightly. ″You were… uh… gonna help me with my essay?″

″Oh, y… yes… that's… yes,″ Kurt stammered, and then he took a deep breath as he saw that now Sam was actually starting to flush himself, probably with embarrassment from thinking that Kurt had forgotten, and that would not do at all.

″Yes, sorry, I hadn't forgotten,″ he said firmly.

″Okay,″ Sam said, and Kurt saw the smile dawning on his lips with relief. He really had to get a grip on himself because he would have never reacted to Sam's innocent but suggestive wording in the way he had if it wasn't for those damned stories. And that was another problem because there was no way he could have Sam in his room, sitting on the bed where Kurt had done _certain things_ with Sam in his mind.

″I'll come to your room after lunch,″ he said, and Sam nodded before walking further along the hallway to his own room.

Kurt watched him for a moment, took another deep breath, and headed into his room, aiming straight for the shower, shedding clothes along the way.

Feeling much restored Kurt wandered down to the kitchen in search of food. He'd not actually eaten anything at Brittany's that morning preferring to stick with Tylenol, water and black coffee, but now he was feeling the first stirrings of hunger.

He found his Dad and Carole in the kitchen, making sandwiches and he snagged a turkey and salad one just before Finn got there to make a dent in the pile.

It wasn't until Sam arrived and they were all seated at the kitchen table that Burt reminded them that he and Carole would be away for the next week.

″We're leaving for Washington after lunch,″ Burt said, nodding at Finn. ″You still up for taking us to the airport?″

″Yeah, no problem,″ Finn said. ″I hadn't forgotten it was my turn.″

″Good,″ Carole said. ″Now, just remember we want you to stick to your curfews while we're away. We're trusting you all to be here on your own and be responsible.″

″Yes, Mom,″ Finn said, rolling his eyes, and Kurt had to agree with him a bit, because they got this lecture every time Burt and Carole went off to Washington.

″We won't starve, we won't skip school, we won't party or drink, we won't do drugs,″ Kurt said in a slightly bored voice. ″We won't burn the house down and we won't crash any of the cars.″

″And no sleepovers on school nights,″ Carole said, giving Finn a significant look.

Finn flushed with embarrassment and dipped his head but Kurt figured he deserved it. After all, both Burt and Carole were fairly relaxed about rules for boyfriends and girlfriends, particularly now that they had all turned eighteen. Kurt, for one, appreciated the fact, even though he didn't actually have a boyfriend at the moment, and Sam hadn't had anyone stay over either. Finn, however, had taken shameless advantage of it, at one point having Rachel over so often that she'd started to drive them all a little mad, and so a new rule had been made for school nights. Kurt and Sam jokingly called it the Finn rule.

After lunch, Kurt hovered in the kitchen as Sam stacked up the dishwasher and then followed him upstairs. He hadn't really been in Sam's room before, hadn't really had a reason to be there, so he looked around with rampant curiosity. His eyes widened as he noticed what looked like a stack of different sized art canvases leaning against the wall, but his jaw dropped when he saw the easel standing in the corner with a cloth draped over what was obviously a work in progress.

″Wow,″ he said. ″I had no idea you painted.″

He glanced over at Sam who had settled on the bed with his laptop in front of him and he was pretty sure that Sam's face was slightly pinker than normal.

″Oh… um… the painting thing is fairly new,″ Sam said softly. ″I mean I've always done a lot of drawing and I've dabbled in other stuff, but I took up painting when we moved to Kentucky. My art teacher thinks I'm pretty good so I'm working on my final submission for college.″

″That's… that's amazing,″ Kurt stammered, still dazed with wondering how much _more_ he didn't really know about Sam, and also aware of the fact that the thought of finding out all about that _more_ was very… appealing.

″So, what colleges are you submitting to?″ he asked.

″A few,″ Sam replied. ″But the main one I want is Parsons.″

A sort of fluttering started up in Kurt's chest, and he tried to steadfastly ignore it, because he just knew that it was excitement at the thought of Sam being in New York as well. And honestly, if he didn't know better, he'd stupidly think that the universe was putting everything perfectly in place for him. Or t _hem_. But he wouldn't think about that at all… down that path danger lay.

″That's great, Sam,″ he said, and if it sounded rather breathless he could ignore that too and just hope that Sam hadn't noticed.

″Yeah,″ Sam said, grinning. ″There could be a few of us in New York. It would make things a lot easier to settle into, don't you think?″

Kurt nodded, trying desperately to look casual rather than maniacally enthusiastic.

″Anyway,″ Sam continued. ″This will work better if you come over here.″

Kurt froze for a moment and he really hoped that Sam didn't notice it. Sam was lying on his front on the bed, gazing at Kurt expectantly and when he actually patted the space on the bed beside him Kurt could feel his face starting to heat.

″Could I see some of your paintings?″ he blurted out, stalling for time. For whilst a certain part of him was feeling very happy at the idea of lying on a bed with Sam, the saner part of him was yelling in his head that it probably wasn't a great idea.

Sam frowned slightly. ″Um… well not the paintings, not yet,″ he said slowly. ″But I can show you some sketches if you like.″

He slid a medium sized sketch book out from under the laptop in front of him and at that point Kurt resigned himself to the inevitable. He stretched out gingerly on the bed beside Sam, thankful for the distraction of the book that Sam was flipping through.

A short time later he'd forgotten his reluctance because the work that Sam was showing him was amazing. There were quickly penciled in portraits of various glee club members that seemed to leap off the page with personality. Delicate landscapes done in black ink with the occasional blur of color that made him want to step into the scene. There were some comical cartoons and detailed object studies. The variation in Sam's work was impressive and his talent was obvious.

″Wow,″ Kurt breathed. ″I had no idea you'd done all this. I mean, I remember seeing you with a sketch book sometimes but I didn't realize… this is amazing, Sam.″

He looked over and caught the blush on Sam's face.

″Thanks, Kurt,″ Sam said, a smile hovering on his lips that drew Kurt's eyes instantly even as his heart rate seemed to increase. ″I know I've kept it fairly quiet. I mean, I've really only shown Mercedes some of my work before. I wasn't that confident about it but now I know that this is what I want to do. It's a part of me, you know.″

The mention of Mercedes had sobered Kurt and made him focus more intently on what Sam had said. There was an intensity in Sam's eyes that Kurt had never seen there before and it seemed to draw him in until all of his focus was on the deep green of those eyes.

″I think it's wonderful to feel that way about what you want,″ Kurt said softly.

″Don't you feel that way?″ Sam asked, so quietly that Kurt almost missed it.

″Yes,″ he breathed, still caught in Sam's eyes… and he wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about anymore.

Sam seemed to move closer. The sudden warmth of his shoulder pressing against Kurt was a shock that almost made Kurt's heart leap out of his chest.

And then, in a moment of sheer (and, he later thought, _ridiculous_ ) panic, he jerked backwards and promptly fell off the bed.

 


End file.
